"Nothing," he answered, his throat closing over the word with a peculiar choking. "You must—not be—frightened. I—am—often—so."
"Not like that. Oh, God, dad! it looks like—death!"
His face was not more ghastly than her own. She had forgotten the terrible secret of her birth, forgotten her mother's suffering, forgotten everything save the danger that was menacing him.
"Hush!" he whispered, the sound a feeble effort. "My little one, my little one—you do—not—blame dad?"
"Blame you? Oh, my darling, my darling! what does life contain for me but you? Dad, dad! look at me. Tell me that you will not leave me. Dad, speak to me."
"The—will of—God——"
"Surely God will not take you from me when you are all I have! Let me go for a doctor, quick."
"No; I should die alone while you were gone. I knew—the end—was near before—you came—and I prayed—God—to send—you before—it was—too late. He heard—my prayer—I am—grate—ful. Darling—it has come. It is—— Good-bye forever now!"
"Oh dad, dad, dad! take me with you. I cannot remain here so bitterly alone with this hideous disgrace, this frightful secret bearing me down. Let me go, too."
She leaped to her feet wildly, unmistakable insanity glittering in her eyes, and seized a knife that lay upon the table.